Page 48 of Filthy Beginnings

“Next!” Egan’s shout sent her gaze snapping back to the mats.

Damien was up again. Another fighter scrambled onto the mats to face him.

Her stomach sank.

This time, Damien’s opponent was N’gal Verish, one of the favored fighters.

Scarlett didn’t know if the assignment was random or bad luck, but it made her nervous.

N’gal’s family and trainers crowded as close to the platform as possible, shouting out advice. Damien had no one.

While there were other matches set to take place simultaneously, this one drew all the attention.

Always one to play to the crowd, N’gal turned toward her, his wings rubbing the air in the deliberate mating ritual of his kind, his antennas twitching as he flexed his arms and snapped his pinchers in the air. “Take notes, pretty prize.” He shouted to ensure she could hear even from her higher vantage point. “Because after I pin this cocky, Skolov space trash, I’m going to win the main event, then I’ll pin you beneath my wings and rut that trophy cunt like a true champion.”

Crude laughter echoed through the arena.

Somehow, she still heard Damien’s menacing growl above it all.

She held her breath. But Egan did not censure the Verish fighter, as he might have so many others.

Instead, he called out, “Begin!”

The two Alphas clashed, the clap of their bodies vicious and loud.

Damien’s movements were not as elegant or swift as usual. Emotion drove him. Fury, too.

Verish sank a pincher into Damien’s chest.

Her heart hammered against her chest, the urge to bang against the glass and unleash her fury almost impossible to contain. Black flashed from her palms. A small crack appeared in the crystal cage.

Startled, she curled her fingers into fists and forced herself to calm down.

She needed to soothe Damien through their bond, not add to his aggression.

A roar rose among the fighters.

Relief almost sent her to her knees.

Blood poured from a wound at Damien’s chest, but it was the Verish fighter who was in trouble, his wing hanging at an odd angle as he flailed in Damien’s chokehold, her Alpha’s powerful arm and thigh trapping N’gal to the mat.

One heartbeat passed… then two… N’gal tried an escape roll.

Damien countered, retaining his hold.

Three heartbeats… four… N’gal’s clawed palm hit the mats.

He’d tapped out.

Roars shook the stadium, some of outrage, some joy.

Damien had done it. He’d unseated a favorite. A Brotherhood-sponsored warrior, no less.

It was a huge triumph.

Damien should have been celebrating.

Except he hadn’t let go of his hold.

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